Feathers and Bricks

I'm naturally a curious person. When something sparks my interest, I don't like to stay a beginner for long — I want to be great at it. Being curious, many things grab my attention like that, making it hard to decide which one is the right one to pursue. I used to sign up for all of them and as a result make no real progress at any.

Rather than cranking up the volume on 1-3 faders, I was "muddying my mix" with too many sounds and sliding 7 or 8 faders up by maybe half a decibel. There was no room for anything to breathe. Everything was competing for attention. Nothing cut through. It was just noise.

On the inside, that's what chasing too many things at once felt like. A distracted life, not a full one. Distraction is the real cost, because the noise that rises as a result is what keeps you from hearing anything else clearly. You miss the signal. Clarity does not come from adding the "right thing." It comes from removing enough of the wrong ones so that the right ones can be heard.

If you're trying to analyze your commitments, hobbies, plans, instead of counting how many there are, try weighing them.

Picture your arms full of feathers. It looks and feels full, but holding that many feathers doesn't make you any stronger. You could carry that many (and probably more) all day and never change. Now, picture yourself holding two fifty-pound bricks. Theoretically, you have the same full arms, but under a completely different load, the kind that actually elicits an adaptation. If you only count, the feathers win. But if you weigh them, the bricks win.

Your arms can only hold so much. If they're full, you have to put something down before you can pick anything else up. And, unfortunately, sometimes you have to put down something that isn't clutter and isn't junk. Sometimes it's a brick that you love.

One of my heavier bricks is music, and I've had to put it down more than once. Not because it stopped mattering to me, but because I realized that my arms were full and that something heavier needed carrying for a season or two. I've set aside reading for a time, or let go of social obligations I'd normally keep. None of it was clutter, it just wasn't what this season needed from me.

The good news: setting down bricks that you love (or feathers you think you love) doesn't have to be permanent. Just because you remove some of the noise today doesn't mean you can't use that same sound in your next song. Spend a season carrying only what you ought to, and not only will you get stronger, but your gut will sharpen. Decisions that previously felt uncertain will become obvious. And that clearer gut starts telling you when and where you've drifted out of balance — you're not moving enough, you're losing touch with that important relationship, a hobby's gone quiet. That's the signal you want — you're ready to add more weight.

You're stronger, so you can hold more. And you don't have to reach for another brick. You can start the next piece with a feather. Something small picked back up. Everything counts.

Subtract first, adapt and get stronger, then add more weight.